


Choices

by zillah1199



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Dubcon (more or less), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2577872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zillah1199/pseuds/zillah1199
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink meme prompt:<br/>Hawke's party, containing Sebastian, Fenris, and Anders, is captured - possibly by someone who was hunting down Fenris - and decides the elf needs to be punished from running away from his master. In a twisted way, he tells Fenris he needs to be fucked to learn his place. Out of 'kindness' though he gives him a choice by who. And if he doesn't decide he will let his men do the honors, killing him when done. Hawke and Sebastian think Fenris will choose either of them since they are both his friend and would know they would do everything they could to make it as painless as possible for him. Emotionally and physically. They are in shock when Fenris chooses Anders. Anders especially.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: Anders

As bad days went, on a scale of one to ten, with one being freedom for all mages and ten being an Exalted March on his clinic, Anders was having about a seven. He was in a room with three gorgeous men, all of them wearing nothing but their smalls, but since Fenris and Sebastian were two of them, it wasn't nearly as pleasant as it sounded. Also, the 'room' was actually a slaver pen, so that was strike two. Or was that three? Did Sebastian and Fenris count as a single strike or no? Anyway, the cell was fairly clean, as such things went, well lit and mostly devoid of filth and human remains. It was, however, definitely locked. 

If that weren't bad enough, he'd been given some variant on magebane that prevented him from using his magic or accessing the Fade. Even Justice had been cowed by that. Ironically, the same substance that blocked his magic also negated Fenris' ability to use his markings, and Anders had every intention of needling him about that later. Assuming there was a later, one that didn't involve slave blocks and perpetual servitude in some sadistic magister's estate. 

Oh, and Sebastian and Hawke were arguing.”What do you mean you can't pick the locks? Do something rogue-y and get us out of here!”

“I'm an archer, not a robber. And where, exactly, do ye think I'd be keeping a set of lockpicks if I had them? In my smalls?”

“You must have something in there that'll work as a lockpick.”

“I beg your pardon, Serrah Broadsword of +2 Extra Compensation, but...”

“Enough!” Fenris snarled at the two of them. “Someone's coming.”

That 'someone' turned out to be a couple of bodyguards and a mincing ponce of a magister, a slimy sort of fellow that Anders just knew harboured inappropriate thoughts about children and animals. When Fenris snarled, calling the magister 'Danarius', Anders did a double take. He couldn't believe this creepy little git was supposed to be Fenris' horrifically evil ex-master.

The magister cast a paralysis spell on them while one of the bodyguards opened the bars to the cell.

“Now, now, pet. Mustn't fuss. You've been a naughty little wolf. Very naughty. You've vexed us terribly, my sweet, and you know that just won't do.” Danarius patted Fenris' cheek proprietorially. “We shall have to punish you now, and you know how much it hurts us to do that.” He sighed dramatically. “We had to call on Magister Margolus to assist us during your little adventure and we're not happy about that, no we're not. He'll expect us to entertain him with a show of your...talents, and we do so hate letting others enjoy your lovely displays.” The magister made a little moue of distaste. “It's really quite unfair of you to put us to all this trouble.” He stroked Fenris' hair, then grabbed a handful of the silver strands and pulled, hard. When Fenris whimpered, Danarius smiled again. “It's for your own good, pet. We mustn't let you think you can play your tiresome little games. Running away from us like that.” Danarius clucked his tongue. “But we're not a cruel man, pet, of course we're not. I _could_ just let one of my guards have you, but to show how merciful we are, and how much we love you, even when you choose to be so _very_ difficult, we'll let you choose one of your companions to play with. Isn't that kind of us?” Patting Fenris on the cheek again while the elf's eyes widened in horror.

“Now, now, my sweet, which one will you have? You may speak now.”

Anders didn't catch the elf's reply. Danarius must not have heard him either. Or he could simply have been playing more games. He slapped the elf on the cheek. “What was that, my little wolf? Speak up.”

If Anders hadn't been paralyzed, he'd have fallen over in shock when he heard Fenris say, quietly but clearly, “Anders.” 

***

Anders had been half dragged, half carried to an elaborate bathing chamber, where two pretty elvhen slaves scrubbed him clean from head to toe. He'd almost have enjoyed himself if he hadn't been under the influence of a blood magic spell that left him unable to move on his own, while still leaving his body pliable and able to respond to commands, enabling the two girls manipulate him however they needed to. When they were finished with him, he practically gleamed. Even in his younger days when he'd been rakish and terribly vain, Anders had never been groomed this thoroughly. His hair had been washed and rinsed with scented water, then dried and brushed until it shone. His skin had been scrubbed with herbal soap, dried with large fluffy towels and rubbed with an oil that had a pleasant, vaguely spicy, aroma. He'd been shaved, had his finger and toenails trimmed, filed and buffed, and his teeth cleaned with something minty. They'd even brushed his lashes with kohl and fluffed his chest hair. All in all he felt decadent, pampered and slightly ridiculous. He was half convinced this was all some sort of elaborate practical joke. Except for the blood magic part.

Now that his ablutions were complete, he was being paraded before Danarius for final approval. As the magister circled him, frowning, Anders noted that the man was slightly shorter than he was. 

“Hmm, yes, you'll do.” Danarius stopped, tapping his chin as he looked up into Anders face. “Well, well, we can certainly see why Fenris fancies you.” Anders snorted. “What was that, my boy?”

“You're joking.” Anders found he could speak, with no compulsion to censor himself. “Fenris hates me.”

Danarius chuckled. “How little you know our pet wolf. He always did have a weakness for pretty blonds.” He stroked Anders cheek, then trailed his hand down and patted a bare, freshly oiled thigh. “Ah, such lovely long legs. Yes, you'll do quite well.” Anders, repulsed by the avarice in the Magister's eyes, longed to flinch away from the unwanted touch.

“What if I don't want Fenris?”

“Well, then my dear, we'll just have to kill you and your friends and let one of my guards have their fun with our little pet after all.” A flash of rage sharpened Danarius' eyes for an instant, along with something dark, something vicious, and Anders realised that this man was more than just a creepy old pervert, and maybe Fenris hadn't been exaggerating after all. “But you won't refuse us, will you?” He simpered again, and Anders suddenly found it disturbing on more than just an aesthetic level. “Of course not. Come along.” He led Anders down the passageway and into a well appointed bedchamber dominated by an enormous curtained bed.

The thing was huge. Massive. Anders couldn't figure out why on Thedas this cave-complex turned slaver den even had all these opulent furnishings, let alone how they'd gotten this ridiculous behemoth into the chamber.

A squat little magister with a long white beard and a turbaned hat waddled up to them and began pinching and prodding at Anders, like he was examining livestock at a market. “Oh very nice, very nice, indeed.” He slapped Anders' flank with a sweaty palm. “Well then, Danny-boy. Let's get this show on the road. I've heard such stories about your elf and his proclivities.” He leered suggestively and rubbed his crotch. “I'm looking forwards to this.”

Danarius regarded the other magister with a certain amount of distaste. “Yes. Well. If you'd like to take a seat?” He gestured to a pair of thickly upholstered chairs placed across the room, positioned so as to allow the best view of the absurdly large bed and its occupants. When Margolus had made himself comfortable, accepting a glass of wine from a servant while opening the front of his robes in anticipation, Danarius turned his attention back to Anders. A small knife appeared in his hand, and a quick flick of the wrist left a shallow cut in Anders' cheek. Moving to the bed, Danarius flung the curtains open. 

Anders had been glaring at Danarius and the other magister, furious and unable to do anything about it. He couldn't move, except to turn his head. As far as he was concerned, all he wanted was this farce to be over...over...oh. Oh my.

Fenris lay on the bed, naked and glistening (score one for Isabela). The elf was tied, in literally the loosest sense of the word, to the headboard with a length of sheer emerald silk. A few other scraps of silk were placed strategically over him, highlighting some of his more appealing physical features. He was quite well-endowed for an elf, hard cock bobbing against a taut abdomen while he writhed on the velvet coverlet, eyes dark with lust.

Anders' mouth watered and the blood rushed from his brain to his groin so fast he had a momentary dizzy spell. When his vision returned to normal, he saw that Fenris was licking his blood off of Danarius' fingers, moaning and whimpering as he sucked the scarlet fluid off of each digit.

“Very good, pet, that's right. We have what you need, don't we, my sweet.” Crossing back to Anders, he ran a spit coated finger across the scratch he'd made. Anders' face burned at the touch, then turned pleasantly warm. He felt giddy, suddenly, as though he were slightly drunk. A slight push and he found himself free to move, staggering towards the bed. He'd barely reached the edge of the mattress when Fenris wrapped his legs around Anders' hips, pulling him forwards until he fell on top of the elf.

“Fuck me,” Fenris begged in that gravelly, sexy voice. Then he was nibbling on Anders' ear, arching up and rubbing their groins together as if his life depended on it. Well, technically it was Anders' life that depended on it, but really, this was no time to dwell on such unpleasantness. Not when there was a hard body pressed against him, and a soft, willing mouth that tasted of sweet wine and Anders' own blood. “Fuck me,” Fenris moaned again when they came up for air. “Now!”

Palming Fenris' chest, pinching a nipple and savouring the smooth, hairless elvhen flesh, a roaring sound filled Anders' ears as he felt the pulse of lyrium under the elf's skin. His fingers moved to Fenris' ass only to find it dripping with oil and ready for him. Fenris gasped as Anders probed inside his sweet, tight, hole, finding that spot that left the elf trembling with pleasure and begging in Arcanum. Anders eyes turned lyrium blue and the Fade sparked at the edges of his vision as Fenris claimed his mouth again. He guided himself inside the elf, white-hot bliss setting every nerve on fire and he was lost in an ecstasy he'd never imagined was possible.


	2. Part Two: Hawke and Sebastian

Sebastian and Hawke gaped as the magister and his guards led Anders and Fenris away. 

“What the...”

“He chose...”

“Anders.”

“...the abomination.”

“Yeah. Hey, wait, that abomination is my best friend. Watch your mouth, Vael.”

“Oh and I suppose you thought he'd choose you?”

“And why not? I'm his best friend.”

“I thought Anders was your best friend.”

“I'm a giver.” Hawke glared across the cell. “Oh, wait, you thought he'd choose you, didn't you?” Hawke scoffed.

“Excuse me, was that a scoff? Did you just scoff at me?”

Hawke scoffed louder.

“And why wouldn't he choose me? I'm his friend and his confessor. We're quite close, you know.”

“Well,  _Brother_  what about those vows of yours? Or don't they apply here, Serrah Holier-than-thou?”

“The Maker is forgiving in cases of extreme duress.”

“Of course He is. Especially when that duress comes with big green eyes and a firm little bum.”

“Fenris' bum has nothing to do with this.” Sebastian frowned primly.

“Oh, no, of course not. You weren't thinking at all about how hot and tight that little...”

A loud noise echoed through the cavern along with a distant flash of light. Then the screaming started. 

“Fenris! What is the abomination doing to him?” Sebastian yanked on the bars, but they didn't budge. 

“Can we let go of the whole 'abomination' thing, please? Besides, how do you know that's not Anders screaming?”

Just then several guardsmen ran by. They were on fire. “Or maybe it was them.” 

Another guardsman ran by, stuck full of large splinters of wood. He wasn't on fire, but the wood was. He collapsed just outside the bars of their cell. Sebastian reached through the grate, pulled a particularly sturdy little splinter out of the whimpering guard and used it to open the lock on their pen.

“I thought you said you didn't know how to pick a lock.” Hawke side-eyed his companion.

“I said I didn't carry lockpicks, not that I couldn't use them.” Sebastian smirked as he pushed the door open. “Fenris choosing Anders must have been a ploy to give us time to work out an escape plan.”

“Brilliant. Lucky thing the guards just happened to burst into flame.”

“I suspect that to be Anders' handiwork, to distract the guards while we broke out of the cell.”

Hawke surveyed the trail of charbroiled corpses lining the route further into the cave complex. “Good distraction.”

The carnage led them straight to a wooden door inset into the cavern. From the other side they heard gutteral noises and crashing sounds. Fortunately they'd managed to strip some relatively unburnt armor off of the dead guards. The nodded at each other, bracing themselves as Hawke kicked the door open.

The chamber was obviously a bedroom. Or at least it had been. Now it was a smoldering ruin. A large bed had been blasted apart, sending shrapnel everywhere. A row of what had probably been chairs was now a pile of burning wood and material. Feathers from burst cushions drifted lazily in the air. Anders and Fenris occupied what was left of the bed, a featherbed and some slightly singed coverlets. Fenris, eyes closed, cursing in some foreign language, was underneath Anders, who was pounding up into him. They were utterly oblivious to their surroundings and both of them were glowing bright blue. Just then Anders arched his back, moaned something unintelligible and a pile of wood exploded. Fenris flipped them both over and kept at it, riding Anders into the the mattress. 

“It's like we're not even here.” Sebastian made the sign of the Maker and muttered a prayer under his breath. 

“It is a tight little bum, though.” Hawke smirked.

A loud pop from the furniture turned firewood distracted them from the vigourously fucking couple. They noticed that the debris in the room wasn't all furniture. Hawke spotted a short, fat magister impaled by a wooden bedpost and most of another magister's head nearby. He picked it up by the hair and squinted at the ruined features. “I think this was Danarius.”

Sebastian was scraping something off the bottom of his boot. “I think this was, too.” They poked around until they were pretty sure they'd found all the identifiable remains.

“Altogether I count two magisters and four and a half guards. Or four guards, one of whom had an extra arm.” Hawke grimaced.

“Excuse me?” Both men whirled at the sound. A thin blonde elf maiden was staring at them with big eyes. “Are you my new masters?”

“No, we just came to, er, rescue our friends.” The girl squeaked as Hawke moved towards the bed.

“Oh, no, don't try to touch them!” She indicated the body parts scattered around the room. “That's what _he_ did.” Her trembling finger pointed towards the magister-on-a-stick. “Come this way.” She ushered them out of the room.

Meanwhile, Anders and Fenris were still going at it. Sebastian glanced over his shoulder as he followed the elf girl. “I guess it's true what they say about Warden stamina.”

They followed the slave into the next chamber which turned out to be an extremely well-appointed kitchen. A large pot was simmering on the stove. “Would you like some soup? It's my papa's recipe. Master loved the soup.” 

“What happened?” Sebastian asked as she ladled out large bowls of a piping hot cream soup for them.

“Master used a blood magic spell on them. But he didn't know your magister friend was possessed.”

“Anders is no magister,” Hawke growled.

The girl flinched. “Forgive me, messere. Your friend, he is spirit-ridden. Spirits don't mix well with blood magic. And, well, the slave, Fenris, he's covered with lyrium, which fed even more magic into the spell. I think your friend's spirit must have gotten over-excited. I was in here, cooking. I knew the Master would be hungry after the performance and I wanted to make sure the food was ready in time. Then I heard him yell something to the other Magister, telling him not to touch the slave or your friend. Then I heard explosions, and screaming. I hid behind the stove until I heard you two talking. Master is dead.” She wrung her hands. “I don't know what will happen to me now.”

“This soup is delicious.” Hawke held out his bowl for another serving. “Would you like a job?”

***

In the other room the spell had run it's course. Anders and Fenris lay exahausted on the battered mattress. The chamber stunk of sex and sweat and blood and burning flesh, little bits of ash raining down occasionally. Fenris sighed and snuggled his head against Anders' shoulder. They were both panting. Anders sniffed the air.

“Do I smell soup?”


End file.
